


Pie

by Potionsmstrs, secretfangirl



Series: The Key to Dean's Heart is His Stomach [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potionsmstrs/pseuds/Potionsmstrs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfangirl/pseuds/secretfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates bran muffins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pie

“That doesn’t smell right.” Dean walked into bunker’s kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge. “Muffins aren’t supposed to smell like that.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and placed the oven gloves next to the muffin tray. “They’re bran, luv. You’re not getting any younger. Someone has to see that you eat something healthy.” He flashed his trademark King of Hell smirk (it was tricky, trademarking a facial expression. Being King does have its perks, though) and leaned towards Dean, hoping to steal their first kiss.

Dean stepped back, rejecting Crowley’s advances. “I’ve told Sammy, and I’ve told you. I’m fine, and I ain’t eatin’ no damn rabbit food. Cas has healed me up more times than I can count, so I’ve got the insides of a twenty-year-old.” Crowley was glaring at him but Dean remained unfazed. “Let me know when dinner is ready. I’ll be in my bunk.” 

* * *

A few hours later, Dean heard a knock on his door and sighed, feeling moderately guilty about snapping at Crowley. He opened the door to find the King of Hell holding a freshly baked pie. 

“I thought about it and you were right about the muffins, Squirrel. I brought a peace offering.” Crowley proffered the pie, steam rising from its shiny golden crust. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, now that changes things. This almost makes up for the rabbit food incident earlier.” 

“No worries, luv. I do hope you like strawberry rhubarb.” The demon smiled as Dean gestured for him to enter. He placed a slice on each plate and they proceeded to converse and jokingly trade barbs as they ate, forgetting the morning’s conflict. 

Neither of them knew that Castiel was standing just outside the bedroom door, out of sight. The angel was covered in flour, holding a warm Dutch apple pie. ‘If only I had timed my arrival five minutes earlier,’ he thought, dejectedly.


End file.
